Full House Seduction. A.C. Arthur
turned out in his favor.
“What do I get if I win?” he asked.
“Hmm,” she thought for a minute. “My admiration for loosening up enough to race in the first place.”
“Okay,” Brock said slowly. He could accept her admiring him. But he wanted more. “And what else?”
“A ‘congratulations,’” she answered with a raised brow.
“Add a congratulatory hug and kiss and I’m game.”
Noelle contemplated a moment. Kissing Brock again would be dangerous, she knew, and potentially fatal to her newfound resolve. But there were no worries—he wouldn’t win.
“Deal.” She reached out a hand only to be startled by the instant warmth when his connected with hers in what should have been a friendly shake. It was weird and made her uncomfortable so she pulled away.
Brock’s smile never wavered. “Need a handicap, pretty lady?”
Her answer was another splash of water in his face. “Only if you do.”
Laughter bubbled in his chest as he smiled. “Four lengths,” he said as they made their way to the end of the pool.
“On your mark,” she said keeping her eye on the other side of the pool.
“Go!” he yelled and they both pushed off.
Brock was a swimmer, she probably should have guessed that by the size of his pool, but still she’d challenged him. And as far as he could see, she was going neck and neck with him.
Slapping the wall they headed off for the second length. She was beautiful, more so than just the nice body and pretty smile. She cut through the water with a sleek grace that rivaled any Olympic swimmer. Never backing down, never slowing, she kept up with him without even panting. He was beyond impressed.
On the third length Brock picked up, waiting to catch the win, but she kept up with him, just a head behind. He was still holding back, toying with the idea of letting her win, since she was a guest in his house and all that. Then he thought of her feisty personality, her teasing little dare, the way she’d kissed him so passionately last night without hesitation, without regret. Noelle Vincent was not a woman to be discounted in any way, shape or form, least of all a swim race that she’d initiated.
So Brock let loose, passing her by a full body length as he reached his long arm out and tapped the wall almost thirty seconds before her.
Noelle came up behind him, heart hammering in her chest. She’d known the exact moment he’d stopped playing with her and appreciated him all the more for it. If she were going to lose, it had better be to someone who was strong enough to race at their full potential and not give her some egotistical female handicap.
The race had been exhilarating and she was pumped. So much so that the ramifications of his winner’s reward fled from her mind the moment he came closer, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her up against his chest.
“Now the winner takes the prize,” he said, lowering his head until their lips were a breath away.
It felt so right—his tight grip around her waist, the close proximity of their bodies—that she could see no problems, no issues to hold her back. His gaze held hers and she quite simply melted against him. If this were the prize, she might be tempted to lose to him more often.
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